


My scars are our story

by LeighJ



Series: Promises [16]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Flirting, Bad Weather, Banter, Beth Greene Lives, Beth Lives, Car Sex, Dominance, F/M, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Flirting, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Inner Dialogue, Kissing, POV Beth, POV Beth Greene, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Public Sex, Rain, Rough Body Play, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex in a Car, Sexual Tension, Storm - Freeform, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Weather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-17 19:48:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12372801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeighJ/pseuds/LeighJ
Summary: Looks like Beth and Daryl are trapped in a car together for the second time. At least it's not in the trunk again though.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, this is in two parts. Enjoy!

Beth Greene has never cared for a little rain before and she certainly doesn’t mind today. In fact, she nearly cries with sheer joy at the sight of it. It’s always so damn hot and the heat does nothing for the rancid stink of the world. To have some rain wash away the smell for a peaceful couple of minutes is not something she’s quick to complain about. Even getting soaked isn’t a problem, until the rain turns biting and vicious, winds howling and screeching all around her, tearing at her hair and stinging her skin. It’s so abrupt it takes her a moment to register the dire changes in the weather and only Daryl’s insistent dragging gets her to move against the solid block of air trying to push her back down the road.

After a torturous battle, they make it back to the car, drenched from head to toe. There’s even a few walkers who are sent flying into trees and ghastly impaled, some receiving branches through the eye and saving both her and Daryl the trouble of killing them later. Even still, as much as she loves the rain, she doesn’t particularly favour the cold and sitting in the car wet through makes her whole body rattle with shivers.

“Y’alrite?” Daryl murmurs.

Beth nods despite her teeth chattering so hard and quick she bites her bottom lip at least four times. “B-be fine, in a s-sec.”

“Hold on, Aaron’s been messin’ in here, think he got the heatin’ runnin’ ‘gain,” Daryl mutters as he plays with dials. 

Beth scowls though the effect is slightly ruined by her cold shakes. “Y-yay f-for _Alexandria.”_

Glancing up into the rear view mirror, Daryl connects eyes with her. “Weren’t for them, we would’a been dead long time ago.”

“I m-meant to be g-grateful?” She asks, her eyes slipping from his in the mirror to look at the scars on her face instead.

“Ain’t gotta be nothin’.” 

There’s tense silence and Beth leaves it, watching Daryl try and work the heating. Why should she be thankful for them? They’re the reason she’s sitting here with a face full of scars. Yeah, they saved her and the others, got them behind their giant walls and filled their bellies but that’s about all they did: hide them. The group did the rest: saving her from Grady, making it nearly two whole weeks on barely any food with a teething toddler and the unconscious, injured weight that was her. Honestly, that time is nothing but a hazy blur to her. Daryl practically carried her the whole way, sometimes grudgingly allowing Rick to do it when he couldn’t go any more.

Throughout the whole ordeal, Daryl pumped her with pills and gave up his rationed water for her to swallow them with. Maggie and Carol changed her dressing as much as they could but soon that ran out too.

It was hell.

Days spent between the living world and the waking, hallucinations coming from the dark depths of her mind and fucking with her. Intense headaches from the sun, loose limbs and a stomach that could barely keep her pills down. It got to the point where death would have been better than the nightmare they all endured on that road. It’s not like Beth doesn’t appreciate her life or the effort everyone put into keeping it and yeah, the scarring would have been worse if they hadn’t patched her up in Alexandria, but they’re still there and so are all the memories.

People think just because she didn’t die she escaped unharmed. As if because she survived, she should just put up with the migraines, the hallucinations, the blackouts and the sudden bouts of dizziness that always leads her to throw up. Like she should be _grateful_. Ever since she got shot her life is miserable. The scars are nothing on that, but they’re still the biggest thing she hates because little kids cry and run away from her now. Judith won’t even stay in her arms without screeching and twisting away, chubby hands outstretched for someone else with a nice, soft face. Not Beth’s knotted, gnarled and bumpy skin. The worst thing is the pity that fills the eyes of whichever person she passes the baby over to and the shame she feels in her gut.

Beth’s own eyes fill with tears and she glances away, out the window at the howling wind. “How long you think we’re gonna be stuck here?” She asks with a stronger voice than she thought she could manage.

Daryl grunts under his breath and there’s a sudden blast of hot air. “Not long. ‘Nough time for you to get them wet clothes off an’ dry up.”

She baulks, reaching her hands forward to the air vent. “‘M’fine.”

He sits back in his seat and shakes out his wet hair like a dog, sending droplets of water all over the car. “You ain’t. You need to warm up girl.”

Despite how ridiculous it is, her face heats up under his confused frown. “I can’t.”

This pushes the frown harder and with absolutely anyone else, it would piss Beth off, but not Daryl. From the day they stepped into Alexandria it’s like every single person is watching her. She sneezes and it’s simultaneously reported to Maggie, Rick, Daryl and Deanna faster than someone can say, “bless you.” Rick promised Deanna he would keep an eye on her, though he thinks Beth doesn’t know that, Maggie thinks she’s gonna top herself and Daryl…  Well, she doesn’t know why he’s keeping tabs on her, but she can only guess. They spent so much time together, depending on each other when they were out there alone, it would be weird if _something_ didn’t emerge from it.

A bond like Daryl and Carol has and maybe it would have stopped there, stayed there, but when Beth opened her eyes in a pool of her own blood, the first face she saw was Daryl's. When they got to Alexandria, Denise said that Beth had pretty much imprinted, like a baby bird. Her brain was scattered, quite literally and after so long with Daryl, when he was the first person she saw, she didn’t allow him to leave. It was him that held her up when she was too stubborn to let him carry her and it was him who then carried her when she was too tired to walk.

He gave up food, water, sleep and probably his sanity for her. Did stupid runs in the dead of the night, coming back scratched from branches and sporting black eyes from who knows where all because he was looking for pills for her. They had no idea what to give her, so it was just measly painkillers but the effort he went to made all the pain that much easier to bear. Of course, at the time Beth was completely spaced out. All these memories started to come back later on when Denise patched her up and pumped her full of whatever was to hand. In drips and drabs, she started to understand the sacrifice the group made to bring her along, to keep her alive but no one gave up as much as Daryl.

So when he watches over her like Maggie or frowns at her behaviour, it doesn’t niggle in her gut as much and it’s not hard to answer him. “I don’t have a bra on, an’ my top is so faded it’s barely there.”

She doesn’t look at him because they’ve come a long way in their friendship but this still feels weird.

Daryl doesn’t laugh like she expects him to, but instead grumbles, “m’a grown ass man Beth, I ain’t no teenager an’ I ain’t havin’ you catch no cold ‘cause you got nipples like every other woman. Seen so many walker nipples m’scarred for life anyhow.”

Beth laughs under her breath and shrugs. “Fine, just… just don’t be weird.”

Daryl snorts and it makes her feel better about unzipping her jacket and shaking it off. “You’re the weird one.” 

She feels her stomach roll over but she ignores it and tries not to be offended. He doesn’t mean it like that, Beth knows that deep down, but it still brings forth the past couple of weeks and all the kids that have sniggered behind their hands and ran away laughing. One time, Carl caught her crying about it and he tried his hardest to cheer her up. Talked into the silence she left gaping full of her misery, telling her that she was a warrior, that she was a hero. Reminded her how she saved Noah, killed Dawn and saved the people in the hospital after taking out their corrupt leader.

It was real sweet of him and she smiled at the time, but deep inside her heart still hurt. Noah was gone now. Dragged from one hell hole to his death and the people in the hospital were now stuck with a corrupt doctor rather than a police officer. So what had she really done? Gotten shot for nothing. Nearly died, for nothing. Shaking her head to clear the thought, she glances back at Daryl. His eyes flick up and her throat closes in sheer surprise at the realisation that she just caught him looking at her nipples.

She has no idea what to say and she feels like such an idiot when the first thing that comes out of her mouth is, “you’re bein’ weird.”

Daryl’s cheeks colour red but she’s even more surprised to see that he doesn’t revert into himself as he usually does when confronted with embarrassing things or something he finds shameful, regardless of whether she does or not. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with lookin’.”

Beth bursts out laughing, clutching his forearm unconsciously where it’s stretched out to the dashboard. “Where the hell is Daryl Dixon gone? ‘Ain’t nothin’ wrong with lookin’’? Who are you?” She giggles.

A smile tugs at his mouth and he shrugs. “Knew it’d make ya laugh.”

Hearing that makes her stop laughing, but melts her heart. “Daryl,” she whispers softly. “I ain’t never gonna be able to pay you back, for everythin’. For the hospital, for savin’ me in the prison, for gettin’ me back to Maggie, carryin’ me all that way, the runs, the water, th-”

“Stop.” Daryl jumps in, his face flushed. “Don’t have to say nothin’, do nothin’. We have each other’s back.”

She smiles and reaches out her pinky finger. “Pinky swear?”

He snorts again but indulges her and wraps his thick pinky around hers. “Swear.”

Beth grins and tugs where their fingers are twined together. “You ticklish?”

“Huh?”

“You ticklish?” She repeats.

He shrugs. “Don’t think so, w-” 

She pounces, using her finger wrapped in his to pull him closer and reach in with her free hand, her fingers digging into his sides and ribs. It’s even funnier that he tries not to laugh but instead snorts and jerks and makes these weird, half breath noises. It’s so funny that she’s giggling harder than him and it allows him the advantage. His large body weight slams into her and it may be how heavy he is or the car seats old and battered, or it may be both but as he leans into her, Beth’s car seat falls back in rapid motion, throwing her down with a surprised scream.

In shock and slight fear, she grips the first thing she can, which is the front of Daryl’s vest. In the space of two seconds, she goes from laughing and tickling him, to having him flat on top of her with the seat thrown all the way back. Their faces are inches apart and his eyes flick right down to her lips. 

Shit, is he going to kiss her?  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearly at the end of the prompt list guys! I have a chapter for Perfect Imperfections coming up and then I'm back to regulary updating Tonight I wanna dance for you and A splintered edge. Which one do you guys want me to upload first?

He doesn't kiss her.

 _She_ kisses _him_.

It's wild and reckless, braver than she actually feels but somehow she does it. With her hand already caught up in his vest from when she fell, there's really not much distance to close between them. His lips are hesitant but soft and supple on hers, moulding to the shape of her mouth perfectly. Beth whimpers at the wet heat, her heart thrumming and her hand in his vest clenched tight. Daryl's own hand falls to her hip and her face simultaneously, cupping her and cradling her into his body. His skin is so hot, burning her cheek and her thighs, her chest through her wet vest.

The shivers and the cold have swiftly gone, leaving nothing but a burning desire in her stomach and between her legs. How the hell can someone kiss like this? How is it even humanly possible to be so turned on? To feel like he's running a live wire over her skin wherever he touches her? Her stomach won't stop flipping over itself either, a combination of nerves and excitement that are twisting her insides hard. Beth stretches out, pressing her feet into the floor of the car and spreads her legs. Daryl shuffles around, pulling his own legs from where they're still twisted in the driver's seat; re-arranging them between her own spread thighs.

She grunts a little as his weight presses into her belly and then her ribs before he resettles and takes her mouth again, slow and easy like he's exploring her. She moans softly, lost in the red heat behind her closed eyelids and the drenching of her panties. In the way Daryl's hips jerk and grind almost unconsciously, not quite pressing where she wants him to but teasing along her pussy lips. They almost feel swollen, desperate for a touch or rub. With that in mind, she cants her hips upwards for him, planting her feet harder and angling her pelvis so that her clit receives a hard rub from Daryl's growing cock.

Beth cries out into his mouth and does it again, their lips breaking apart with a wet sound and their foreheads grinding together as their hips do. Beth glances down for a moment to watch, her nails now embedded into Daryl's biceps where she's gripping him tightly. The air is getting thinner she's sure and it makes her feel a little less embarrassed by the panting sounds she's making. He pulls back to look at her when her head falls back.

Her chest heaves beneath him, her eyes zeroing in on his swollen lips and own wild eyes. "What're we doin'?" She whispers.

Daryl swallows, his thumb massaging her cheek. "Thought you knew."

She shakes her head, her voice trembling when she says, "no idea."

He continues to stare at her and she's worried that he's speechless enough to stop what they're doing and drive back like nothing ever happened. Except he doesn't do that and really she should give Daryl Dixon more credit because she knew he was brave, but he's even more so than she ever thought. His hand that was cupping her hip unlocks and unfolds so that his fingers dance up her bare skin where her vest top has ridden up. Beth bites down on her lip to trap a whimper and tries not to jerk around, her body locking up in preparation of his tickling.

Except he doesn't tickle her like she expects. His fingers keep going, up, up, up. With each inch, her heart bangs like a drum against her rib cage as if she's running from walkers. It rattles her whole chest and the fabric of her top stretched over it until her body feels like it's vibrating, ramped up by Daryl's hesitant fingertips stroking over her. Finally, he seems to reach his destination because he stops and Beth gasps into the rattling silence.

His hand cups her right breast, his thumb to his pinky finger swallowing the small lump whole. "How you got me feelin' like this?" He whispers.

Beth flushes hot all the way from the crown of her head down until the heat burns out in her knees and drips down to her toes. Jesus, it's so hot hearing him talk like that, but even better is the burning hot cheeks he's sporting. He's so embarrassed by his own desires, so awkward he doesn't even know how to express himself.

She smiles at him, her fingers reaching up to his face and tracing his cheeks, chin, lips and jaw. "'Cause I'm a 'goddamn horny teenager'," she says with a grin.

Daryl's lip tilts to the side and the smile holds on her own lips as she uses her fingers to trace the contours of his face. She's never done anything like this before and it feels intimate, taking the time to study the flesh of the man she's pretty sure she's about to have sex with. Whenever she's been with a guy in the past, it was in semi-darkness. It was always good, not terribly amazing but enough to make her turned on and over in an hour or less, but it's never been raw. Now here she is with Daryl Dixon and one kiss has pumped her full of so much excitement she's trembling. Even her fingers where they run over the hard edges of his chin are shaking.

When she makes it round to his bottom lip, he kisses her forefinger. Beth bites down on her own bottom lip and presses two fingers to his mouth which he kisses, and so on and so forth until he kisses all four fingers. When he's done that she tucks two away and presses two fingers to his lips again, her eyes locked intently with his. They stare at each other as she pushes against the resistant of his mouth. He looks a little bewildered but his lips part and his tongue remains flat when Beth strokes her fingers there. He groans and the sound massages the skin until she gets a shiver all the way down her spine. He takes the next step, sucking on her fingers and leaving her light headed with the rapid fire want that burns in her pussy.

Jesus.

Now she knows why guys do this so much. She's not even sure why she's doing it or why she decided to, but she isn't regretting it. It's hot, like a foreshadowing promise of what she could do to him or him to her. Beth actually feels a little lightheaded and she has to breathe deep and calm down with her eyes clenched shut.

Daryl's lips part to release her fingers, his mouth brushing across the palm of her hand as he whispers, "y'alrite? Y'wanna stop?"

The most endearing thing about this question is that they haven't really started. They've kissed both on the mouth and currently on the hand. A gentle squeeze to her breast in between that is barely anything on the way any other guy would treat her. Except he's not any other guy because he actually gives a damn.

"Just feel a little light headed. Excitement's gettin' me," she laughs softly as her eyes open.

Daryl's mouth is still pressed to her hand but now his lips skim down to her wrist. Beth shivers violently as he grazes the scar there and the rapid movement his head makes to check her reaction tells her he was nervous about doing it. God, he's just precious. Too precious for this world and no one even knows it because of how rough-mannered he is and how coarse he speaks. He's completely judged on his background all the time, sometimes even by the group. The looks Maggie was cutting to him this morning when Beth said her and Daryl would be going on a run alone was enough to tell Beth exactly what her sister was thinking.

She hates the fact that he looked down as well, like a kicked puppy because he knew as well as her what Maggie was thinking when she was eyeing him. He's just so used to being the red neck scum that he doesn't see anything wrong with one of the women he's come to see as family staring at him like a pervert. It's not fair and it frustrates the hell out of her because all she wants to do is show him how amazing he is but she doesn't feel like she can do it all alone. Though that's always the problem isn't it? Beth never thinks she's capable of doing things and especially never believes that she'll do them to a high standard.

Except time and again she's proven others wrong. Hell, she's proven _herself_ wrong. She decided to live even when she was scared enough to want to die. She fought with the others, she stayed up night after night with a screaming baby. Young and completely clueless but she still did it. With Daryl, she ran and killed and hunted just like him. She survived in the hospital, she survived being shot, she survived the highway of hell. She's done all these things and they've taken there chunks out of her, but no matter how much she's been through the ringer she's come out stronger. She can do this. She can prove to Daryl Dixon that he is amazing, that he is one of the best people left alive today.

"What're you thinkin' 'bout?" Daryl murmurs.

Beth jolts because she got so lost in her own thoughts that her hands went slack and she must have stared at him blankly. "You," she answers with red cheeks.

She knows she does that often: gets lost in her head. He doesn't get annoyed with her though or try to bring her out of it too soon and it's just another reason that he's so damn perfect.

"You an' me," Beth adds.

He raises up on his elbow, his thick fingers skirting over her hairline. "Together?"

She blushes. "Your definition of that is?"

"Not yours since ya gone all red," he jibes.

She laughs and nudges him lightly in the ribs. "I feel a little lost here," she admits.

Daryl dips his chin. "Me too."

"So… you wanna work it out… together?"

He hums as his fingers continue to dance over her forehead and down to the first scar knitted into her flesh. Beth shivers and he hesitates but she lets her eyes slip closed and relaxes into it. He still doesn't move and she thinks she's gonna have to verbally let him know that it's okay until he presses his hot forefinger against the puckered bullet hole. For a horrible, intense moment she's sure she's gonna be sick. Not because of Daryl or anything he's doing wrong but because of the blinding awareness that strikes her spine and the very core of her.

It's as if he's stripped her of her blood and bones and now sits stroking her nerve endings. This is the rawest, most intimate thing about her and he's got his fingers laid against it. He doesn't stay long because her accelerated breathing proves how difficult she's finding it and he quietly carries on, stroking along her brow bone and the fine blonde hairs there before stroking down her cheek and finishing at her lip. With her eyes still closed, she feels him lean in rather than sees him and it makes her mouth tingle to have a sudden sensation of heat without seeing Daryl descend first.

Beth parts her lips immediately, lost in the bliss of kissing this man. She nearly jumps out of her skin when he lays his hand back on her breast. There's no time to truly be frightened by the action though because his lips open wider, pushing hers open too and Beth can taste the cigarette he had before they got caught in the rain. It's not as unpleasant as she thought it would be but before she can even get used to it he pulls away, eyes hooded and pupils blown wide. She's breathing rapidly yet again from nothing more than a mere kiss and hint of tongue.

With confusion, she watches Daryl to see why he stopped and she works it out when his rough thumb presses to her mouth with intent. Keeping their eyes locked together, her heart galloping, she does exactly what he did earlier: suck his fingers. It's even more erotic than having him do it to her because she's imagining all kinds of things. That her cunt juices are coating his fingers. That she's sucking on his cock. She's pretty sure his thoughts are skirting along the same line as hers too because he licks his lips when she hollows her cheeks and sucks three fingers into her mouth.

It's so intimate staring at him while she does this, the whole world still outside the windows and the sky darkening with the storm clouds, the rain still as heavy on the glass as it was earlier. It's almost _too_ intimate, too much, too raw and she nearly chickens out but she manages to close her eyes instead. Except that kind of makes it all the more overwhelming. With lack of vision comes stronger smell, taste, touch. It's all Daryl. All her senses are filled with him. He's all around her, pressing into and on her in both a literal and figurative way.

With her eyes closed and now all four fingers in her mouth, Beth's breathing accelerates with excitement. As much as she's enjoying this, she wants more. She wants to taste herself. She wants to lick the cum right from his fingers, his tongue, every nook and cranny in his mouth. Her eyes fly open and she moans softly around his fingers when she finds Daryl's anguished face. His eyes are closed too but they open when she makes a noise, unfocused and drowsy like she's drugged him. God, if this is exciting them so much what will it feel like to actually feel some pressure where she wants it? What will his fingers feel like in her pussy?

His thick, calloused fingers. What about his tongue? On her nipple, her clit, her dripping hole? She makes another noise of distress and shifts desperately in her seat, trying to find some friction or something.  _Anything. Please God,_ anything _._

"You wanna…" He doesn't finish what he has to say, whatever that was because she's frantically nodding and yanking her soaked jeans off which put up a stubborn fight.

Daryl helps her, using the limited space they have to tear the fabric down her flesh until her skin is red raw and tender from the struggle. She doesn't give a fuck. Their breathing is so damn loud. Her heart is racing in her ears and her hands still shaking but it doesn't stop her from spreading her legs over his lap where he's kneeling on the edge of the seat above her. Daryl's hands shake when he reaches down to her hip bone, his fingers curling around it and his thumb pressing hard so she jerks beneath him.

"What'd you want? Tell me girl, I dunno what the fuck I'm doin'."

It's endearing and so damn erotic at the same time. Beth can barely think of words to string into a sentence so she doesn't speak at all. Instead, she lifts her knees, her feet resting on Daryl's chest and pulls her panties down. With her legs elevated and squeezed together, she can't see what Daryl sees but his breath catches hard so she can only hope it's good.

"All the way," he growls, his hand clenching into a fist on his thigh. "Take 'em all the way."

 _God, calm down, calm down, calm down_ , she chants to herself. Now is not the time to be having a heart attack. She was trembling before but now she's practically having a seizure, her hands shaking so bad Daryl gives up waiting for her and grips her panties himself, tugging with such aggression they tear around her thighs. Beth gasps, her cheeks and thighs hot. From the sting and the flush of wetness to her cunt. She feels cross-eyed, her jaw hanging open in surprise at Daryl's aggressive, almost dominating behaviour.

He wasn't like this earlier when he was shaking and hesitant, sweating bullets. Not only minutes ago but pretty much on a regular basis, he's so shy and sweet and thoughtful. Broken sometimes and now she's flashing her bare pussy and it's like she doesn't recognise the man before her. Hell, she's not complaining. Not ever, but she wonders what the reason is. It can't simply be that he's attracted to her. Can it? There's no more time for these kind of questions though because Daryl's knuckles are nosing between her pussy lips and her cunt is pulsing and her stomach flipping, her mouth parting in eagerness to scream…

"Shit!"

Straight to the chase, his thick fingers push and push until he's buried in her cunt, stretching her walls and hips so fast her head falls back and her eyes roll into her skull, legs falling apart with no dignity. Daryl makes a noise in his throat, something hoarse and thirsty that makes her pussy walls suck at his fingers in a desperate bid to keep him where he belongs. His fingers curl at the same time as he shuffles closer, having previously pulled away further into the dashboard to allow her spread legs. As he crowds into her body, giving off a blast of heat, Beth reaches for him, spreading her thighs wider around his hips and groans throatily as his fingers bury deeper in her pussy.  The weight of his hips presses into his wrist and grinds down on her clit. Words. She needs to say words. They still exist but she can't fucking string them together.

She only needs a couple anyway. "I'm gonna cum," she says it breathlessly, distantly like she's in another world which frankly, she is.

"Damn girl, wha's it bin? Less than a couple minutes?"

Beth whimpers, straining. "Been months since I cum Daryl. Please, move. _Please."_

She tries to bounce her hips but he's so effortlessly pinned her with his weight and now she's simply impaled on his fingers, both her hips and her pussy aching, an orgasm raging in her belly without any outlet. It makes her restless, hot and bothered, irritated and she becomes rough with desperation. Daryl pants over her and curls his fingers so tight against her g-spot she may pass out for a second or two. With her spine weakened into goo, she's completely pliant and he's able to pull out of her clutching pussy despite her embarrassing cry of disappointment.

"You wanna get rough? You ain't seen rough."

Breath hitching in her chest, her eyes are reverted to his fingers stripping his belt from its loops and jeans opening in the front. Her throat closes in a mixture of horror and arousal when she sees his cock. How is it so _big?_ How is this going to work? In a car for Christ sake! Her mouth parts to voice her concerns but Daryl's excited panting and sudden hand movements distract her all over again. How does he keep doing that? In less than a second he's got both her wrists captured in one hand and simultaneously, he slams her trapped hands into the headrest above her and his cock into her cunt.

It hits her.

The storm outside shatters the glass and tears the bonnet, shreds the car doors and penetrates her with a power she can't possibly fathom. Her bones tense up, her blood flows thick and heavy, her nerve endings pulled tight. Her cunt is like a song, screaming its pleasure and releasing it into the world, pouring its lyrics in the form of cum all over Daryl's dick. It's not just her pussy that's like a song, it's everything. It's her screams, it's Daryl's grunts, it's the slap of his hips against her, it's the skin of her ass on the leather seat, the thud of Daryl's foot against the floor as he uses the power of his leg to fuck her.

It's all around her, filling her, undoing her and remaking her. There's a beat everywhere. In the creases of her elbows and her throat, where her pulse races, in her clit and her cunt where the orgasm fights to extend and unravel some more. There's a beat in her head, in her scars. She can feel each one like they were hand sewn into her flesh, knitted tight with practice and patience. They itch and pulse and feel like they're tearing, bleeding with the song her body has become, singing and when she's coming down, she realises something.

Realises that the scars are not ugly, are not something to be ashamed of. They're battle scars, a fight she won. They're reminders of that fucking hospital, of that battle in her soul to keep going, just like the scar on her wrist. The funniest thing is, she had never scarred her body in her life. In all the years she had lived on a farm, the worse she had done was sprain an ankle. The first time her body was marked permanently was less than a few days after she met Daryl. The second time she was scarred was the same day she saw his face after they were separated.

There was such hope in her chest that day. Such love for him that he came, that he saved her. Every other face, Rick's too, didn't mean anything, didn't even register. She was looking at him, all she saw was him. The first face she saw when she opened her eyes, the first person to lay their fingers across the scar on her head, the one that said she made it. She was drowsy and confused and terrified but she felt it in his hands, saw it in his eyes. It didn't matter. Not the scar on her wrist, not the ones on her face. They didn't matter and they never would because Daryl Dixon accepts her for who she is, for the song that comes out of her mouth, for the lyrics she thinks of, for the tunes she hums, for the jokes she laughs at.

This realisation is an awakening, a sudden flash of insight that burns through her as hot as her orgasm. It makes her desperate. Fired up. Not like she expected: to cum and be wiped out by it after so long without an orgasm. Instead, it adds fuel to the scorching fire in her cunt. Her fingernails dig into Daryl's forearms, her head craning back to watch his cock slamming into her, her thighs spread over his. Sweat is gliding down his forehead, curving over his cheeks and they're both panting but no one is exhausted, no one wants to stop. She hasn't felt this connected to a person is so long, if ever and God, she just feels so _good._ She doesn't want it to end, she doesn't even want to cum again, doesn't care if she does or she doesn't because this is _amazing._

 _"_ Faster," she begs, turning her face so she can bite at his wrist and forearm.

Daryl groans long and low, his free hand falling to her thigh and pressing hard into the muscle to keep his momentum, his foot crammed so hard against the floor the car's squeaking like it's gonna come apart. Beth feels delirious but that's no surprise, she's felt that way from the second she kissed him, the second she crossed a line.

"Shit girl… knew you... was gonna be… _tight,"_ he punctuates the last word on a hard thrust that makes her sob. "Jus' not… like this!"

Her head rolls against the headrest, her wrists still trapped by Daryl's large hand. She wishes they had more room so he could pound her how he so clearly wants to, a jerk in his hips that tells her he's either holding back or the space doesn't allow for the thrusts he wants to give her. Hot spikes roll down her spine at the thought.

"Please Daryl, fuck me, c'mon, _please,_ " she begs.

"The fuck you think I'm doin'?" He gasps, squeezing both her wrists and her thigh tight enough that it nearly hurts.

"Harder," she grits out. "So fuckin' hard. Show me. Show me how much you _unh_ want me!" He falters and she's so terrified she's offended him that her insides freeze over. "Daryl I didn't m-"

"You asked for it," he cuts her off.

Beth's left clueless when he pulls out, her walls clutching and wetness gliding down the crack of her ass, chest heaving from the muggy air. Even the windows have fogged up, which makes her smile despite her confusion over Daryl's reaction. Is he mad at her? Is he going to stop? Teach her a lesson? This isn't what he does though. Instead, he pushes against her ass so her back slides all the way up the passenger seat, right back until he's managed to get her upper body in the back seat and her ass on the headrest of the passenger one. Jesus, it's hard work fucking in a car, no matter how fun it is.

"Yeah, tha's it," he murmurs, mostly to himself because he's gripping his cock again.

She licks her lips as she watches him stroke himself, her hand reaching forward almost unconsciously to join him. He chokes and then whines, his dick pushing into her palm. He's heavy and warm, pre-cum beading at the tip as she squeezes, his shaft slathered in her cum and juices. It practically makes her light headed, seeing the mark she's made on him. Her hand glides like silk over his cock, from the tip to the base and no matter how erotic the act alone is, it's even more so when Daryl's head bows forward between his shoulders and he fucks her clenched fist, taking the pleasure he deserves.

Beth licks her lips again, her mouth so damn dry. She parts them to say something, she's not sure what, but it's the same moment that he looks up. His eyes latch straight to her mouth and his yawning pupils tell her exactly what it is he's going to do to her.

A pleased smile lights her mouth. "C'mon, show me what you got."

"Fuckin' minx," he growls.

She squeals when he grips her hips and rags her around, arranging her so that her ass is elevated onto the headrest and her back is deep set into the backseat.

Beth has heard sex is meant to be amazing when her hips are higher than her head but she's never had chance to find out. Not for much longer is she clueless and wondering because she gets the real deal. Daryl grips her by the ankles and hauls them over his shoulders, pushing her back of her legs into her chest as he bares his weight down on her, his face close and his hand hot against her pussy as he grips his dick and guides it into her. Beth's speechless, mouth gaping open as dramatically as her chest is heaving against her bent knees.

She's completely crushed underneath him, pinned hard and almost wishing it was harder, a desperate craving in her stomach to be consumed by this fucking man. He's unbelievable sexy looming over her and she has no damn idea how she's so lucky. His arms are thick and corded where he reaches over her head to grip the lining of the back seat, his knees jammed into bars between the headrest. His top is loose and worn, hanging away from his body so that she can see straight down it, her eyes riveted by both his yawning pupils and his rippling stomach as he pushes back into her.

Gasping breathlessly, she fights to catch air as he leans into her body, his cock a bearing weight in her pussy driving deep and deeper still. It's magical, the feeling and completely maddening all in the same moment. The heaviness of him and yet the silky soft feeling of his flesh rubbing against her inner thighs and then her inner walls. The desperate need for oxygen paired with the inexplicable want to be consumed. She's completely lost in him, in herself, in what they're doing but there's no time to be overwhelmed because when he told her he would show her rough, he wasn't fucking around.

His new leverage and angle allows him to _fuck_ her. Daryl Dixon just reinvented the word because there is nothing, not a word, not a movement, not an expression to accurately depict the speed and depth that he takes her. His hips piston, his arms tense and bend as if he's doing push-ups into her pussy and his knuckles turn white over her head where he's squeezing the top of the seats. But God if the whole vision of him wasn't enough to turn her into a liquefied mess then the sounds he's making really takes the cake. She finds herself forcing her own moans silent, capturing them between gritted teeth and allowing only a handful of gasps to burst out of her mouth just so she can listen.

It's pure _sin_.

There should be something to outlaw the sounds that he makes when he's fucking a woman because it's seriously not fair to her cunt. It ripples and sucks with greedy intent, high off of the sounds raising goosebumps on her arms. Christ. He's pure sex. Her nails clench in his hips where she's found her hands, piercing his flesh violently.

"No, _unh_ , fair!" She complains through pants.

"What?" He gasps back distractedly, his cock rotating so it massages every inch inside her.

Her pussy clamps _hard_. Instead of letting her head fall back with the intensity of her sudden orgasm, she instead curls forward, as if she's trying to fight off the power because if it takes her, she'll be left in ruins. She thinks she screams but honestly everything is white noise and all she can see is Daryl's slack face and jerking hand, aggressively beating at his cock. God knows when he pulled out of her, so lost in her own body she can't remember her own name but no way will she ever forget his.

"Daryl. Daryl, fuck, _cum_ , now. Cum in my mouth, on me, in me. I don't care, please Daryl, please, jus' cum," she begs.

She's never sounded so pathetic but fuck her pride if it makes Daryl Dixon scramble up into the backseat and choke her with his dick, his cum flooding hot and heavy and thick into her mouth, down her throat until she chokes, her nails biting into his hips. When he pulls out she gasps wildly, a thick runner of spit still connected to her bottom lip and the head of his cock. She licks at it until it disconnects, leaning forward to lick up the small line of cum dribbling down his shaft. Daryl collapses to the side, sprawling in the back seat and she giggles albeit shakily as she lies down on his chest and allows him to tuck her into his side.

"We mus' look like a couple of idiots. You ain't got no panties on an' my fuckin' pants are 'round my ankles," he grunts.

Beth laughs and tilts her head to him. "You think we been gone long?"

"Yeah, but I's gonna blame it on the storm, say we got holed up or somethin'."

She nods, her eyes fluttering closed. "Wanna lock the doors an' have a nap?"

"You didn't lock the doors?" He asks with more conscious effort than she feels like she can give to the conversation.

She mumbles sleepily. "No chance. You distracted me with your devil dick."

Daryl snorts and leans upwards to hit the two manual locks. "Ain't no walkers 'round. Ya lucky, could'a been bit in the ass."

It's her turn to snort at the mental image though the following repercussions make her stomach tighten with dread. She really should have locked the doors.

"Ain't no one bitin' that ass but me," she answers.

He squeezes her tight. "Damn straight."


End file.
